I got a new (to me) car. I intended to go buy a barebones, no bells or whistles, will do for the next five years and will haul 6 kids car. I ended up with a fully loaded, pristine, beyond my dreams, with every button you can think of car. Seriously, it is a nice car. It is so nice, I feel kind of guilty having it. I am seriously outclassed - by an inanimate object. So I already felt a bit like I had to be extra nice to this car, to make up for being owned by a mess like me.
I should have found an older, less shiny, less fancy vehicle.
EVERYONE wants to let me know that this is a nice car, and I had best live up to it. And I have a whole passel of folks who love me, and have decided to take up the plight of this poor, poor car that has no idea what it has just gotten into. They love me and know that there are things that I just don't know about cars and want to help me to keep this car for a long time. But I wrestle with it. I could mention here that I have been kind of depressy lately anyway... it doesn't take much to swing me.
I was telling my friends about my new ride at a dessert gathering, and one of them, a lady who I know loves me very much, and I her, read me the riot act about taking care of this car. She said to me, "You aren't known for taking good care of vehicles." One of the biggest reasons I love her is that she has a gift for speaking truth without being mean about it. And her statement is mostly true. I do have a standing appointment with my friend the tire and oil guy once a month to have the fluids and tires checked. But I don't see the point of keeping them shiny, or fussing too much over them, or anything we own, really. In my mind, it is stuff. I don't want to be owned by my stuff. The furniture is all hand me down, and none of it matches, dust particles are hosting family reunions on my bookshelf, my chair is held together with duct tape, and I am a champion dandelion grower. I am not saying I don't care at all, and don't make an effort, but I am not going to devote my evenings and weekends to making sure that my stuff looks as nice as other people's stuff, and my lawn passes the neighbors' muster. I like dandelions. I like tall grass. (And I think making something grow so someone has to spend an afternoon mowing it back down is stupid.) I want to do other things, be with other people. I want to read and sew and play games with my kids and cook for folks, and-and-and. I am probably just lazy, and justifying it all, but that is how I look at it, at least in my own head.
Her words hit a nerve though, because I did keep regular checkups done on my last few cars. ( I am telling you. I have the kiss of death for anything with a motor.) I had already resolved to keep the car usually washed and vacuumed. And my son might have been teasing me a week or so ago about no one liking me. He doesn't know. I DO know he was yanking my chain, about one issue in particular, but I internalized all the same. And I started thinking about what else I am known for.
I am not known to be kind to motorized objects.
I am not known to have a nice yard.
I am not known as a good housekeeper.
I am not known to be timely.
I am not known to dress well.
I am not known as a beauty.
I AM known to be able to fully dress a teenage boy, chonies out, from the contents they have previously left in my car.
I am not known to be organized.
I am not known to be sweet or obedient.
I am not known to be well liked by everyone.
I am not known to be tolerant of kids who treat my kids poorly.
I am not known to worry about the stuff on the porch.
I am not known to be cautious with my opinions.
I am not known to be handy, or sporty or outdoorsy.
I am not known to know how to do a lot of things that folks who were not raised in the city assume everyone knows.
I am not known to be on the ball, humble or respected.
I could go on. I am not a perfect person. I am not even a slightly good person. I am just me. I am a mess. In my mind, a good mom meets all of these "standard" criteria, and I meet none of them. I had to think hard on this, or throw in the towel and give up on everything, hide in a closet and eat ice cream until I was too big to fit through the doorway and had to be tow trucked out.
God, being the amazing Father He is, spun it for me real quick.
Matthew 16:13 - 16 13 Now when Jesus came into the district of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” 14 And they said, “Some say John the Baptist, others say Elijah, and others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.” 15 He said to them, “But who do you say that I am?”16 Simon Peter replied, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.”
Jesus asked Peter who other people were saying that He was. I am fairly sure that, being God and all, He already knew.The story is in what comes next. He followed that up with BUT, who do YOU say that I am? I think the point is that there is a difference, a sharp difference, in who other people were saying Jesus was, and who we each individually say that He is. God showed me that I could turn this around also. I know who men say that I am. I know every negative trait I have, and which ones are most obvious to the people in my world. The real question, the one that needs to be asked after everyone else's opinions have been acknowledged, is to ask God, "WHO DO YOU SAY THAT I AM?"
He says I am loved.
He says I am forgiven.
He says I am free.
He says I am created to be uniquely me.
He says I am redeemed, I am perfect, because I am seen through the light of Christ's sacrifice.
He says I am enough.
He says I am loveable.
He says I am important.
He says I am useful.
He says I am worthy.
I am not the Christ, but I am Kimberly, the daughter of the living God. And that is enough. And whenever I get all hung up over what "men say that I am" , I am going to try to remember who God says that I am. And if I forget, I will just ask Him.
Beautiful Monsters
Beautiful Monsters
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Beautiful Scars
Growing up, when it was time to get out the old, plastic tube or woven canvas tri-folded lawn chairs, my dad would come show us his finger. EVERY TIME. Because when he was a kid, a chair JUST LIKE THAT snapped it off. Even though the doctors were able to reattach it, it was a little crooked, and the nail grew funny. So, we were super careful with those lawn chairs when I was young. No one wants to grow up into the dotty old lady running around waving her slightly crooked finger at neighborhood kids every time the sun comes out.
And, yet, I am that slightly dotty, (not-so) old lady showing off her scars. They are ugly, and in raw, vulnerable places, but I haul them out regularly to show people. Life has been rough, and I learned a long time ago that it is okay NOT to pretend like it hasn't. To be honest about where I have been, and what effects that has caused and where I am (honestly) at with things now. I have a friend who has been processing a divorce. Recently, when it became final, she was able to turn to me when she wasn't sure what divorce was supposed to feel like. I went through it, excruciatingly, and it is one of those scars I show off. Been there. Done that. And nowadays, I laugh about the "perks of being single" when my married friends are swapping war stories, but that is like making a happy face out of my c-section scar with sharpie. Finding the bright side, the flowers growing on the manure pile.
So, I thought I might share. She wanted to know that, even in circumstances like mine, did it still hurt when the divorce went through? Did I still mourn a loss? Yes. It hurt. It hurt like crazy. I mourned. I mourned the loss of what should have been, what was supposed to be, the promises that were made, and not kept. I grieved for the perversion of God's plan for our marriage and for our family. I cried over the loss of what we would never have - anniversaries and shared grand-kid times and holidays as a large extended family. I ached over the ministry I still believe God had for us, that would never be. And I wept for our kids, for what they would lose, what they would never know, and all of the additional obstacles that they would face. One flesh was being torn back into two, and it hurt. It is supposed to. Because it isn't God's plan.
Then, as time goes on, those hurts heal. God repairs the cuts and bruises, and starts to rebuild what is broken inside. It takes time. Those open, gaping, oozing wounds that are tender and sore and seem to tear open every time someone gets engaged, or married, or has an anniversary, or even walks by looking slightly less than abjectly miserable start to close up, bit by bit. And one day, they heal into scars. As time goes on, those scars shrink, and fade.
They are still there. Occasionally, they ache a bit, and you are reminded of how far you have come, and that a part of you will always be scarred. But it is okay. God has healed. You are whole. And you survived.
So, I show off my scars. It is life, and it is mine. Because I have these scars, I can look at a life-wound that someone else is covering up, passing off as no big deal, and see the reality and the hurt underneath the pretty band-aids. These scars let me speak into the lives of people who are now hurting, or confused or scared. I can show them my scars, and remind them that I have been there, and lived to tell about it. I can walk with them, and have made it through. I could pretty up my past, and only talk about the wonderful, pink, fluffy things ... but my scars are beautiful. They help tell my story, and help me help other people work through theirs.
So my point is, I guess, to feel what you feel. If it hurts, feel it, and remember it, and let it be what it is. Someday, someone will be hurting just like that, and you will be uniquely equipped to minister to them. And, please, don't cover up your scars. We are all travelers on this harsh and demanding road. Don't miss the chance to serve God through someone else because you were more interested in appearing to have it all together than in the sometimes harsh realities of life. You are a beautiful and beloved child of God, so the things that make you up are beautiful and beloved too. Scars and all.
Saturday, March 30, 2013
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Whatever
It is funny how sometimes, themes run through your life. For me, the same Bible verses will keep popping up, in different venues. Someone will bring it up during an adults group, and then it will be in the chronological study, and then in the Ladies Bible study book, and again on the radio.
For me, lately that verse has been the Whatevers - Philippians 4:8 -
Finally brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable--if there is any moral excellence and if there is any praise--dwell on these things.(HCSB)
I kind of love the Young's Literal Translation -
As to the rest, brethren, as many things as are true, as many as are grave, as many as are righteous, as many as are pure, as many as are lovely, as many as are of good report, if any worthiness, and if any praise, these things think upon;
I am bombarded daily with thoughts. Things I want to think on, things other people want me to think about, thoughts my boys, or others, want to share with me. The news, advertisements, social media, Christian media, work, school, home... there are bajizillions (a whole heck of a lot) of thoughts out there screaming for our attention. It can make a person have to go see the nut doctor. Or want to move to a tamped mud house in the middle of nowhere.
But, really, it all boils down to simplicity, and the discipline to train your brain back on that simplicity. Truth, gravity, righteousness, purity, love, good reports, worthiness, praises. Think about these things. Simple. And I can make it so, so, so complicated.
My first problem is that nature abhors a vacuum. Apparently, so does my son's dog, but that is another story. While sometimes, I am able to legitimately think about nothing, I can't seem to do it on command. If I am being hit with a thousand thoughts, I am going to pick one. And if that one doesn't sit well, and I try to send it on it's way, another one will come sliding right in behind it, bringing it's ugly cousin with it. Kinda like the laundry pile. No matter how much you take away, it just keeps growing.
Secondly, Newton's laws state that objects will tend to stay in motion or at rest, all things being equal; AND that every action has an equal and opposite reaction. (For me this means that I will have to spend just as much energy doing the laundry, as my boys did in getting it dirty. Doesn't seem fair, does it?) So if my thoughts get invited to a pity party or a tour through the seedier side of town, it is a well greased path and they will just continue sliding on in that direction.
So whatever direction my brain is moving, all things being equal, it will stay in that direction. I just have to get it going the way I want it. And all I have to do to switch gears is expend the same energy on an equal and opposite thought pattern. I don't have to figure out how to STOP negative thoughts. Just to START thinking on God's thoughts. He even gives me a pretty cool cheat sheet of things to start thinking on.
That is pretty awesome. All of those thoughts that would draw me further from God - I don't have to wage war on them. I don't have to figure out how to turn off my brain, or magic-eraser them away. Just simply, consciously choose other thoughts. I suppose, since God is telling me about this over and over, it bears further investigating.
But for now the word "Whatever" is just so perfect for this. Having teens, the word "whatever" is usually used to show disdain towards or the inferiority of the thing someone else (usually a brother) is saying. So it makes me giggle to read it, and I have to to flip my hand up, roll my eyes, and do the What-----EVER voice in my head. You know you do it sometimes too.
But it really works here:
The latest gossip? Whatever - All I really have to do is turn my mind to what is true.
Filled with anger at my ex-husband? Whatever - I can instead focus on the things that are of GOOD
report.
Kid being a little mouthy today? WhatEver - There are so many commendables about him that I know he is on the right path, but having a hard day today.
Feeling sad or overwhelmed? WhatEVER - How much does God love me and promise to be right here with me?
Pride a bit hurt? WHATEVER - I don't have anything to be proud of but Jesus!
Worried about the economy, politics, state of the world/future/price of tea in China? Whatever - the truth is that God is in control and has a plan ... He"gots" this.
So, if I am walking around muttering "whatever" to myself in my best impression of a 16-year-old-boy-doing-an-impression-of-a-16-year-old-girl, it's okay. I am telling the negative thoughts the way it is, and building some mental disciple muscle. Eye rolling optional.
For me, lately that verse has been the Whatevers - Philippians 4:8 -
Finally brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable--if there is any moral excellence and if there is any praise--dwell on these things.(HCSB)
I kind of love the Young's Literal Translation -
As to the rest, brethren, as many things as are true, as many as are grave, as many as are righteous, as many as are pure, as many as are lovely, as many as are of good report, if any worthiness, and if any praise, these things think upon;
I am bombarded daily with thoughts. Things I want to think on, things other people want me to think about, thoughts my boys, or others, want to share with me. The news, advertisements, social media, Christian media, work, school, home... there are bajizillions (a whole heck of a lot) of thoughts out there screaming for our attention. It can make a person have to go see the nut doctor. Or want to move to a tamped mud house in the middle of nowhere.
But, really, it all boils down to simplicity, and the discipline to train your brain back on that simplicity. Truth, gravity, righteousness, purity, love, good reports, worthiness, praises. Think about these things. Simple. And I can make it so, so, so complicated.
My first problem is that nature abhors a vacuum. Apparently, so does my son's dog, but that is another story. While sometimes, I am able to legitimately think about nothing, I can't seem to do it on command. If I am being hit with a thousand thoughts, I am going to pick one. And if that one doesn't sit well, and I try to send it on it's way, another one will come sliding right in behind it, bringing it's ugly cousin with it. Kinda like the laundry pile. No matter how much you take away, it just keeps growing.
Secondly, Newton's laws state that objects will tend to stay in motion or at rest, all things being equal; AND that every action has an equal and opposite reaction. (For me this means that I will have to spend just as much energy doing the laundry, as my boys did in getting it dirty. Doesn't seem fair, does it?) So if my thoughts get invited to a pity party or a tour through the seedier side of town, it is a well greased path and they will just continue sliding on in that direction.
So whatever direction my brain is moving, all things being equal, it will stay in that direction. I just have to get it going the way I want it. And all I have to do to switch gears is expend the same energy on an equal and opposite thought pattern. I don't have to figure out how to STOP negative thoughts. Just to START thinking on God's thoughts. He even gives me a pretty cool cheat sheet of things to start thinking on.
That is pretty awesome. All of those thoughts that would draw me further from God - I don't have to wage war on them. I don't have to figure out how to turn off my brain, or magic-eraser them away. Just simply, consciously choose other thoughts. I suppose, since God is telling me about this over and over, it bears further investigating.
But for now the word "Whatever" is just so perfect for this. Having teens, the word "whatever" is usually used to show disdain towards or the inferiority of the thing someone else (usually a brother) is saying. So it makes me giggle to read it, and I have to to flip my hand up, roll my eyes, and do the What-----EVER voice in my head. You know you do it sometimes too.
But it really works here:
The latest gossip? Whatever - All I really have to do is turn my mind to what is true.
Filled with anger at my ex-husband? Whatever - I can instead focus on the things that are of GOOD
report.
Kid being a little mouthy today? WhatEver - There are so many commendables about him that I know he is on the right path, but having a hard day today.
Feeling sad or overwhelmed? WhatEVER - How much does God love me and promise to be right here with me?
Pride a bit hurt? WHATEVER - I don't have anything to be proud of but Jesus!
Worried about the economy, politics, state of the world/future/price of tea in China? Whatever - the truth is that God is in control and has a plan ... He"gots" this.
So, if I am walking around muttering "whatever" to myself in my best impression of a 16-year-old-boy-doing-an-impression-of-a-16-year-old-girl, it's okay. I am telling the negative thoughts the way it is, and building some mental disciple muscle. Eye rolling optional.
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
Confessions of a Busy Mom
What started this train of thought:
http://www.air1.com/blog/brant/post/2013/03/20/The-Krusty-Sage-Your-Kids-Dont-Need-Your-Stupid-Success-Track.aspx
This is pretty much my response, changed in a few spots where I was directly addressing the blog author:
I usually agree with Brant Hansen's blog almost completely. This time I am not so sure. I think that the underlying point is valid... my job as a parent is absolutely to build men of God, not superstars. I think a lot of this depends on your child, and your family and how old they are and the way THEY should grow. (I would be wrong to try to make my children grow into mini-mes.. they are so different than I am. So when I want to be home having hot cocoa and doing puzzles, they want to be out shooting hoops and socializing. So we compromise. It would be equally as wrong to push an introverted child into being class president.)
So my concern falls into three areas. Yes, they don't need MY success plan, but they do need to be trained. Part of that training is to learn to learn - to be challenged and to put in the work and the effort and do their best. That is going to look different for each child. Two of my kids excel academically, so they need to be challenged academically. One struggles, so my expectations for him are not as "rigorous"
It is good for them to be trained in different situations and different ways.
Second, so much of this part of life ( I have teens) is them learning to be their own person while in the safety of my care. To do that, they have to go do, go be, go try. And be able to come home and relax, process and regroup, and then go again. They are testing out their identities as learners and athletes and leaders and musicians and friends and group members and Christians in a world that is, increasingly, not. I really believe that they should do that while under the safety of my authority instead of having them jump off to college having never stretched those identity muscles.
Finally, and maybe mostly, is that what I think I hear you saying is Relax! they are going to be all right! However, I see a LOT of legalism regarding this cropping up. Maybe it is just where I live. But it seems that parents are knee jerking in response to exactly the busy kid culture we live in, and going totally legalistic in the other direction. If withdrawing from all but a few church-approved and parent directed activities is right for them, then it must be the only answer for everyone. And, honestly, that just makes me mad. The bondage of legalism gets my fires burning every time, in any manifestation.
Our family is active. We go do. We are out in the community and with the school and our church. We get to speak into the lives of kids and of families that we would not know if we weren't involved in these things, families that don't "do church". We have seen people come to church because they know someone from sports or speech or whatever, and it isn't so scary if you know someone who will be there.
Sometimes, I wish I could go back to when they were littles and we were home together all of the time. But I am raising men, and I want them to "go therefore into all the world" boldly and with confidence, because they know who they are and that they can touch down at home. My kids' character is being challenged and built through our involvement in activities. They have to be men of God in the world, not just at church and in our home.
If I have misunderstood what he was conveying, I apologize. I am in no way offended, but felt like there was a valid counter-view that should be expressed. We are not all called to be elbows, and raising kids, like being a member of God's body, is rarely one size fits all. I so appreciate the challenge to examine what we do and hold it up to the scrutiny of conviction. Keep fighting the good fight.
http://www.air1.com/blog/brant/post/2013/03/20/The-Krusty-Sage-Your-Kids-Dont-Need-Your-Stupid-Success-Track.aspx
This is pretty much my response, changed in a few spots where I was directly addressing the blog author:
I usually agree with Brant Hansen's blog almost completely. This time I am not so sure. I think that the underlying point is valid... my job as a parent is absolutely to build men of God, not superstars. I think a lot of this depends on your child, and your family and how old they are and the way THEY should grow. (I would be wrong to try to make my children grow into mini-mes.. they are so different than I am. So when I want to be home having hot cocoa and doing puzzles, they want to be out shooting hoops and socializing. So we compromise. It would be equally as wrong to push an introverted child into being class president.)
So my concern falls into three areas. Yes, they don't need MY success plan, but they do need to be trained. Part of that training is to learn to learn - to be challenged and to put in the work and the effort and do their best. That is going to look different for each child. Two of my kids excel academically, so they need to be challenged academically. One struggles, so my expectations for him are not as "rigorous"
It is good for them to be trained in different situations and different ways. Second, so much of this part of life ( I have teens) is them learning to be their own person while in the safety of my care. To do that, they have to go do, go be, go try. And be able to come home and relax, process and regroup, and then go again. They are testing out their identities as learners and athletes and leaders and musicians and friends and group members and Christians in a world that is, increasingly, not. I really believe that they should do that while under the safety of my authority instead of having them jump off to college having never stretched those identity muscles.
Finally, and maybe mostly, is that what I think I hear you saying is Relax! they are going to be all right! However, I see a LOT of legalism regarding this cropping up. Maybe it is just where I live. But it seems that parents are knee jerking in response to exactly the busy kid culture we live in, and going totally legalistic in the other direction. If withdrawing from all but a few church-approved and parent directed activities is right for them, then it must be the only answer for everyone. And, honestly, that just makes me mad. The bondage of legalism gets my fires burning every time, in any manifestation.
Our family is active. We go do. We are out in the community and with the school and our church. We get to speak into the lives of kids and of families that we would not know if we weren't involved in these things, families that don't "do church". We have seen people come to church because they know someone from sports or speech or whatever, and it isn't so scary if you know someone who will be there.
Sometimes, I wish I could go back to when they were littles and we were home together all of the time. But I am raising men, and I want them to "go therefore into all the world" boldly and with confidence, because they know who they are and that they can touch down at home. My kids' character is being challenged and built through our involvement in activities. They have to be men of God in the world, not just at church and in our home.
If I have misunderstood what he was conveying, I apologize. I am in no way offended, but felt like there was a valid counter-view that should be expressed. We are not all called to be elbows, and raising kids, like being a member of God's body, is rarely one size fits all. I so appreciate the challenge to examine what we do and hold it up to the scrutiny of conviction. Keep fighting the good fight.
Friday, December 28, 2012
I resolve... to not resolve...
It is that time of the year, again, when we all set about to lying to ourselves and everyone around us. With the best of intentions, of course.
It goes like this: "In 2013, I really am going to ____________________________________". Already, my friends have been making New Year Resolution boards on pintrest, and planning, and a few impatient souls have already jump started on theirs. I admire the resolve, the desire, the optimism this takes.... but it just makes me feel tired. Really, REALLY tired.
I have been thinking on simplicity lately. It was an abnormally simple Christmas for my family. No out of town relatives, no driving, no hoopla... not even the traditional big dinner. We hung out in our jammies. We opened gifts late into the morning. We played board games, watched a movie. We ate simple beef stew with a loaf of home made bread.
It was the best Christmas I can remember in ages.
It was simple, it was quiet. I was joyfully content.
Proverbs 15:30 says "The light of the eyes rejoices the heart, and good news refreshes the bones."
and then
Ecclesiastes 4:6 Better is a handful of quietness than two hands full of toil and a striving after wind.
So, in my pursuit of contented joy, do I need to make a list of things to strive for? I think not this year! Instead, I am going to choose contentment. With who I am. With what we have. With how we are.
Don't get me wrong. I am not giving up and condemning my children to live in squalor. I am not going to become the m and m eating queen. I am not pursuing disorganization.
But instead of being slavishly committed to a goal that statistically I will have given up on within the first week, I want to spend a little time each day and be content with where we are, what we have, who I am. If my God will meet all of my needs according to His riches, I can rest a little easier knowing that He's got this, and I couldn't possibly do better than Him, right?
Each day this year, I hope to get to write down something happy from the day, something good. Something worth remembering. I hate journals, so a sentence or two is more my style. And then, next year, when everyone is again frantically trying to figure out how to fix their (already incredibly blessed and abundant) lives in the following 365 days on a budget, I would like to take the time to read through and remember how good my life is.
And, if along the way, all of those pans I am so thankful for figure out a way to be organized and put away logically, then I can be thankful for that bonus, too!
It goes like this: "In 2013, I really am going to ____________________________________". Already, my friends have been making New Year Resolution boards on pintrest, and planning, and a few impatient souls have already jump started on theirs. I admire the resolve, the desire, the optimism this takes.... but it just makes me feel tired. Really, REALLY tired.
I have been thinking on simplicity lately. It was an abnormally simple Christmas for my family. No out of town relatives, no driving, no hoopla... not even the traditional big dinner. We hung out in our jammies. We opened gifts late into the morning. We played board games, watched a movie. We ate simple beef stew with a loaf of home made bread.
It was the best Christmas I can remember in ages.
It was simple, it was quiet. I was joyfully content.
Proverbs 15:30 says "The light of the eyes rejoices the heart, and good news refreshes the bones."
and then
Ecclesiastes 4:6 Better is a handful of quietness than two hands full of toil and a striving after wind.
So, in my pursuit of contented joy, do I need to make a list of things to strive for? I think not this year! Instead, I am going to choose contentment. With who I am. With what we have. With how we are.
Don't get me wrong. I am not giving up and condemning my children to live in squalor. I am not going to become the m and m eating queen. I am not pursuing disorganization.
But instead of being slavishly committed to a goal that statistically I will have given up on within the first week, I want to spend a little time each day and be content with where we are, what we have, who I am. If my God will meet all of my needs according to His riches, I can rest a little easier knowing that He's got this, and I couldn't possibly do better than Him, right?
Each day this year, I hope to get to write down something happy from the day, something good. Something worth remembering. I hate journals, so a sentence or two is more my style. And then, next year, when everyone is again frantically trying to figure out how to fix their (already incredibly blessed and abundant) lives in the following 365 days on a budget, I would like to take the time to read through and remember how good my life is.
And, if along the way, all of those pans I am so thankful for figure out a way to be organized and put away logically, then I can be thankful for that bonus, too!
Friday, November 16, 2012
Recognizably Me
So a while ago, after a short power outage in our town one morning, we were talking at Bible study that night, and the outage came up. A beautiful friend was remembering a time, many years ago, where the town power was out for almost a week. She was sharing that one of the only places in town that had power was the Pizza Place, through a generator, and of course the wood ovens were working. So the Pizza Place became the gathering place through the days. She was laughing, remembering not recognizing people in their "natural" states. No flat irons, no curlers, no blow dryers. We laughed about how much we use appliances to look "normal".
I wondered about this. Am I prettied up on the outside, made into what I think will be acceptable to the people around me, showing what I want seen? Is it a glossy front, leaving my insides hidden? If someone could see my heart, see my thoughts, would they match my face? Would they recognize me? Do my insides, my natural state, match my "Christianized" outsides?
Fast forward a few months, and the theme comes up again. It is all well and good to sound and look the part, but does it go past that? Is my faith about the Christian life, or about Christ? Is it about people thinking good things about me, or doing God's things for people?
Ach. A heart is a tricky thing to know. Faith is hard, because it is one of the easiest things to fake. People are easy to please. Man looks at the outward things... and we do. Does she look like a Christian? Really? What does that look like? Is there a dress code I missed? And yet, we take a look, and "can tell". Because the tatted up kid with purple hair... obviously a lost soul. The conservatively dressed young man with the standard boys' hair cut? Probably one of us. Does she sound like a Christian? Talk in code like "faith" and "hope" and "sister" and "fellowship" and "quiet time"? Never swear? If she is talking about someone else does she preface it with "I only say something because I am concerned about ... "? If you ask them how they are doing do they say "I'm blessed"?
God looks at the heart. I know I can focus so much on my outward, that I forget that God could care less. He doesn't care what I look like. He really doesn't care what I sound like. I think He is waiting for us to be real. With each other. With the world. If we could be real, about who we are, what we are, that we are just regular, can't find clean underwear, dog hates the neighbor, kids don't always brush their teeth people, who have an amazing God who loves us JUST THE WAY WE ARE... the world would change. So many times I feel like I have to clean up MY act to go to church, and I KNOW better - I know its cow pucky. How much more so my neighbor who I invited to come along must feel. My job isn't to be the bouncer for God's club... no dress code, no cover charge, no approved guest list. But do I live like that for myself? And if I can't really accept it for myself, do I really believe it for you?
Would anyone recognize the real me if all of the artifice were stripped away? I hope so. More and more, that is my plea. To be real. To say I'm not okay,but I hope it is going to be better soon. To share how things really are. To not candy coat my faith. To worry less about my hair, or (lack of) makeup or what my kid looks like sitting in church, if my income measures up, what the people around me think of me and give myself over to completely being present in church - in fellowship and worship. To share life with people who are real people - and even real lost people - and love them just like they are, because that is how God loves them. To have those snarky, less-than-charitable thoughts in my head quiet down and then disappear, so my thoughts more closely match my words. My hope, recently my most honest prayer, is that if someone could see my insides sitting at the Pizza Place without all of the usual beautification, they would walk over and sit down for a while, because they would know it is me.
I wondered about this. Am I prettied up on the outside, made into what I think will be acceptable to the people around me, showing what I want seen? Is it a glossy front, leaving my insides hidden? If someone could see my heart, see my thoughts, would they match my face? Would they recognize me? Do my insides, my natural state, match my "Christianized" outsides?
Fast forward a few months, and the theme comes up again. It is all well and good to sound and look the part, but does it go past that? Is my faith about the Christian life, or about Christ? Is it about people thinking good things about me, or doing God's things for people?
Ach. A heart is a tricky thing to know. Faith is hard, because it is one of the easiest things to fake. People are easy to please. Man looks at the outward things... and we do. Does she look like a Christian? Really? What does that look like? Is there a dress code I missed? And yet, we take a look, and "can tell". Because the tatted up kid with purple hair... obviously a lost soul. The conservatively dressed young man with the standard boys' hair cut? Probably one of us. Does she sound like a Christian? Talk in code like "faith" and "hope" and "sister" and "fellowship" and "quiet time"? Never swear? If she is talking about someone else does she preface it with "I only say something because I am concerned about ... "? If you ask them how they are doing do they say "I'm blessed"?
God looks at the heart. I know I can focus so much on my outward, that I forget that God could care less. He doesn't care what I look like. He really doesn't care what I sound like. I think He is waiting for us to be real. With each other. With the world. If we could be real, about who we are, what we are, that we are just regular, can't find clean underwear, dog hates the neighbor, kids don't always brush their teeth people, who have an amazing God who loves us JUST THE WAY WE ARE... the world would change. So many times I feel like I have to clean up MY act to go to church, and I KNOW better - I know its cow pucky. How much more so my neighbor who I invited to come along must feel. My job isn't to be the bouncer for God's club... no dress code, no cover charge, no approved guest list. But do I live like that for myself? And if I can't really accept it for myself, do I really believe it for you?
Would anyone recognize the real me if all of the artifice were stripped away? I hope so. More and more, that is my plea. To be real. To say I'm not okay,but I hope it is going to be better soon. To share how things really are. To not candy coat my faith. To worry less about my hair, or (lack of) makeup or what my kid looks like sitting in church, if my income measures up, what the people around me think of me and give myself over to completely being present in church - in fellowship and worship. To share life with people who are real people - and even real lost people - and love them just like they are, because that is how God loves them. To have those snarky, less-than-charitable thoughts in my head quiet down and then disappear, so my thoughts more closely match my words. My hope, recently my most honest prayer, is that if someone could see my insides sitting at the Pizza Place without all of the usual beautification, they would walk over and sit down for a while, because they would know it is me.
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